We went out to dinner Wednesday night at the Inn. We had to ride herd on Emma constantly because she cannot seem to use a quiet voice. She's too loud, she doesn't want to stay in her seat, she's just not great to have along at the Inn. When the (rotund) chef came out to visit with the kids Emma asked her if she ate a lot. Oy, the whole experience was a headache.
On the way home I explained to her that I was disappointed in her behavior. We talked about the loud voice, about the fact that she doesn't listen, and about how she probably hurt the chef's feelings. I wanted her to understand. She started to sniffle and argue back. Always the arguing. I knew I was getting through because Emma's feelings were hurt. Finally, she tried another tack. "You're never proud of me." "Emma, yes I am." "When are you proud of me?" Honestly, I had to think hard because she's been a bit trying lately with the arguing about every single thing. I offered that I was proud that she'd been good shopping with us Saturday. "When's the last time you were proud of me?" There was a lot of silence on my end. Mainly because I was thinking to myself something I could never say out loud. I'm proud that my five year-old daughter is clever enough to try to back her mom into a rhetorical corner. Nicely done.